


but if mine, then yours - and so all yours

by madrigan



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, hermione being the bamf she is, hiram being an indulgent father
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 14:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20949512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrigan/pseuds/madrigan
Summary: "...you and Daddy never say it. I mean, I don't think I've ever heard you say it once."Hermione Lodge was struck speechless by her daughter's observation, but she knows that there are a thousand different ways love expresses itself in actions, rather than words. Or, the four times Hiram and Hermione said "I love you" without actually saying it, and the one time they finally do.





	but if mine, then yours - and so all yours

**Author's Note:**

> There's a serious lack of fic on my favourite mob couple so I caved and wrote it myself. Title taken from the Merchant of Venice, Act III Scene II.

"Hermione! We haven't seen you in forever!" Mary waved, and Hermione returned it, but tried to hide her grimace when she saw that Mary was sitting at a table with Alice Smith - or was it Cooper, now? 

"Hello ladies," she greeted, and didn't miss the ring on Alice's left hand. So it seemed that the high school sweethearts had gotten married after all.

"Congratulations, Alice. Send my regards to Hal? And Hiram's too, of course. He still speaks of Hal fondly." 

"Forgive me if I don't return the favour," Alice sneered at the glittering diamond on Hermione's hand. 

Hermione smiled coolly, her voice even. "Pity, but we'll live." 

"Stop it, Alice," Mary admonished, then turned back to Hermione. "Congratulations! I don't know how I missed that giant rock. It's beautiful!" 

"Why are you being so nice to her?" Alice glared. "She broke Fred's heart."

Hermione stiffened at the mention of Fred Andrew's name, and felt a pang go through her as she recollected the last time they parted - the summer before she graduated from college.

"You'll come back after graduation, 'Mione? I'm sorry I haven't been keeping in touch - things have gotten so busy here at the site, and I've been working my crew hard - " 

"Yes, your crew. This is a good look on you, Fred." 

"What, this?" He had asked, perplexed, looking down at his faded joggers, muddy work boots and worn plaid shirt. 

"No, ¡dios mío! I was referring to you being your own boss," Hermione laughed. "You're doing so well! I'm proud of you," she teased.

He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks. I won't deny though, it's been hard. And I know it's not your scene, but I'd love to show you around the site sometime. Maybe after dinner, on Friday?" 

Here, Hermione paused, and bit her lip. Her and Fred had been a...thing, in high school, and she couldn't forget his sweet kisses and their clumsy fumbling in the backseat of his father's car at the Twilight Drive-In on movie nights, but while she had encouraged him to move away from Riverdale to pursue bigger things, he had insisted on staying.

So she had left, without him, and being away had given her perspective - there were bigger and better things in the world, and she wanted to see them. Nothing that Riverdale offered could make her stay. 

"Fred....Hiram has asked me to move to New York with him." 

Hermione didn't miss the way his expression shuttered at once, and his voice, so full of warmth before, suddenly went flat. 

"And you said yes." 

"I said yes," Hermione confirmed. 

"Oh Alice, that was ages ago!" Mary's voice startled Hermione out of her reverie, and she took a deep breath. The sting in her heart soothed a little. 

"In hindsight, we should have all seen it coming," Alice continued, her gaze boring into Hermione's. "You always were a prissy little bitch in school. And now you'll have the diamonds and pearls you've always wanted, playing house with Hiram Lodge. Hang off his arm, attend your spas and afternoon teas, and enjoy it while it lasts. You'll regret it." 

"Alice!" Mary gasped. 

"Don't worry about it, Mary," Hermione assured, then turned to Alice. "You know nothing about me." 

Alice snorted, and Hermione gave her one last cold smile, before she turned and left. 

On her way back to Pembrooke, where her and Hiram had rented an apartment for several weeks while they tied up loose ends before their big move, Hermione decided to take a detour to the Andrews' construction site. 

From a distance, she watched as Fred directed his crew enthusiastically, and felt a smile tug at her lips at how in his element he seemed. 

Alice was wrong. Hermione didn't regret her decision. She would have been happy with Fred, sure, but happy was no longer enough. 

And Hiram - Hiram had made her an offer she couldn't refuse. 

She took one last look at Fred, and continued on her path. 

Back at the Pembrooke, Hermione shrugged off her velvet travelling coat and tugged at her gloves, leaving them in a pile on the settee in front of the fireplace. 

"How was your day, corazón?" A pair of arms encircled her waist, and Hermione allowed herself to lean back against the broad, muscled chest of her fiancé.

"Good. Could have been better. Remind me what you said again, when you asked me to move to New York with you?" 

She felt Hiram's laugh rumble through him. "What brought this on?" 

"Humour me," she insisted. 

Their fingers entwined, and she looked down at their joined hands, her ring glittering in the light of the fireplace, throwing rainbows into every shadowed corner of the room. 

"I asked you to build an empire with me," Hiram replied, his tone amused. 

"Ask me again," Hermione squeezed his hand gently. 

"Corazón..."

"Please," she added. 

Hiram lowered his head, and Hermione shivered when she felt his lips ghost across the sensitive shell of her ear. Then she heard his deep baritone, echoing in a part of her soul no one else had been able to touch, until he came along. "Come away with me, Hermione. We'll build an empire together - better, stronger, more powerful. Say yes."

"Yes," Hermione whispered, "yes, yes, yes, yes."

\--

"You're spoiling her rotten," Hermione accused, as Hiram unveiled trunk after trunk of elegantly wrapped Christmas gifts to their squealing, excitable daughter. 

The space under the 8-foot-tall Christmas tree, bedecked in red and gold ornaments the three of them had spent an entire night hanging up, was already crowded with gifts, but it seemed that Hiram was bent on outdoing himself year after year. 

"She deserves to be spoiled," Hiram countered, picking Veronica up and twirling her around as her shrill, happy laughter echoed the halls of their expansive Dakota apartment. 

"Again, Daddy, again!" Veronica demanded, after he put her down. 

"Mija, that's enough," Hermione warned, but Veronica merely pouted, her arms akimbo. She looked back up at Hiram with pleading eyes. 

"Daddy, please?" 

"I said no," Hermione insisted sharply. Her daughter's temper, once sweet and amiable, had gotten out of hand lately, always used to getting her way. Hermione feared that if Hiram didn't start telling Veronica 'no', she would grow into one of those ignorant, mean-spirited girls that filled the ballroom of every social function they were obliged to attend. 

Veronica's lower lip trembled, and she started to tear up. Hermione rolled her eyes. Ah, the waterworks. Her daughter had certainly inherited Hiram's flair for the dramatic. 

"There's no need to upset her, Hermione," Hiram said disapprovingly, then comforted Veronica. 

"Don't cry, palomita." 

"I don't like Mommy," Veronica sniffled, and Hermione frowned, hurt at her daughter's words.

"I know, mija, now let's go see if Cook has any polvorones for you." 

Hermione had heard enough. She turned and left, swiping away hot, angry tears of her own. 

Later that evening, she rebuffed all attempts by Hiram to communicate with her, even brushing off the gifts he had gotten her from his business trip to Europe. 

Before bed, she was patiently brushing her hair at the dresser when he sat behind her. Hermione avoided his gaze in the mirror. 

"You can't ignore me forever," Hiram huffed, his voice tight with irritation. 

Hermione set her mother of pearl brush down, and turned to him. 

"I know I can't. I can't seem to stop you from doing anything you want. And now I can't stop Veronica either. Does that please you, mi rey?" 

She spat the endearment like an insult and got up to leave, but Hiram's hand had formed a tight clasp around her wrist. 

"What do you want?" He growled. 

"I want what's best for our daughter. I want her to know how hard we work and where we came from. I grew up surrounded by nothing, Hiram. Nothing. And now I look around me and I have everything, and I'm so thankful. I want Veronica to understand how privileged she is, to know that for every gift she receives, there are a million other little girls out there who don't have the same good fortune. But if you insist on spoiling her the way you do, she'll never change when she grows up." 

Hiram was silent, and Hermione snatched her hand away from his grasp, which had slackened.

"I don't know why I bother, you never listen anyway. Do what you want."

She stalked out of the room, allowing the door to click shut behind her. Suddenly feeling very tired, Hermione sighed and swept her hair away from her face. She refused to go to bed with this simmering resentment inside of her, so she poured herself a glass of Jadot before settling down by the roaring fireplace, picking up her tome of Rosalía de Castro's works, and reading till the words blurred. 

Hermione's first prickle of awareness came from the bright, warm sunlight she could feel slanting across her face. She turned away, pressing her cheek into the cool Egyptian cotton of the pillow, and was fading back into dreamland when she realized that she wasn't on the rich velvet sofa she had fallen asleep on.

She blinked into wakefulness again, and the brief memory of Hiram carrying her to bed came to mind. She remembered protesting sleepily when he had cradled her in his arms, even as she subconsciously turned into his warmth. 

Hermione stretched her arm out to Hiram's side of the bed, finding it cool to the touch, and she rolled over to the clock on the nightstand - a quarter past ten, she had slept in. The sounds of a commotion from the drawing room had her sitting up, drawing an ivory silk robe around herself, and opening the door. 

She was stunned by the sight that greeted her. Workmen were streaming in and out of Veronica's room, carting out boxes full of toys and trinkets. By the Christmas tree, her little girl was leaning against Hiram, and even from the distance Hermione could see the miry tracks of tears that had dried on Veronica's plump, rosy cheeks. 

Some of the workmen had spotted her, and they were staring openly. It caught Hiram's attention, and she found herself meeting his gaze. It lasted for an electrifying beat, before Veronica looked up as well and cried, "Mommy!", running towards her at full tilt. 

Hermione leaned down to engulf her little princess in her embrace. "Good morning, chiquita. What's going on?" She rubbed at the tear stains on her daughter's cheeks. 

"Daddy said I should give all my old toys away since I'm getting new ones. He says there are many little girls and boys who have nothing to play with and I should learn to share. Is it true, Mommy? That there are other children with no toys?" 

Hermione knelt so she was eye-level with Veronica, and held onto her small hands. 

"It's true, mija. I had no toys when I was your age. I had to work very hard for anything I wanted. You are very lucky, to have a Daddy who loves you so much. Many children have no daddies or mommies to buy them toys." 

Veronica's gaze was serious, for a six-year-old. "I don't want them to have no toys, Mommy. I'm sad that I can't play with them anymore but I want them to be happy too. Like me." 

Hermione smiled. "That's a good start, mija." 

Later, as Veronica left for a playdate with the seventh generation of Rockefeller children, Hermione sat at the glass-fronted dining table near the french windows, ready to begin the dreary task of writing a stack of Christmas cards to Lodge Industries' shareholders and investors, inviting them to their annual Christmas dinner hosted at the Waldorf. 

When Hiram entered the room, she steadfastly continued her task without looking up. He set a slim box by her hands, then leaned down. 

"I'm always listening, mi reina." 

He left after that, and Hermione cast the innocuous looking box a doubtful look, but curiosity won out, and she lifted the lid. If anyone had been in the apartment, they would have heard her shocked cry. 

It was an onyx and diamond Cartier panther bracelet - but not just any one, it was the bracelet from the collection of the Duchess of Windsor, auctioned at Sotheby's several weeks prior. She had been flipping through the auction catalogue when she offhandedly remarked that she would love to own the piece, but Hiram had been busy looking over the year's financial reports and she didn't think he heard. When Hermione learned from several of the society ladies that the piece had been bought by an anonymous buyer, she hadn't pursued the matter any further. 

Now it was sitting in front of her, glittering softly in the sunlight, and she held it up further to admire the glint of emeralds that made up the panther's eyes. Hermione couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. Hiram never failed to surprise her. 

\--

She got the call from Andre. 

"Mrs Lodge, la policía are here. They're looking for Mr Lodge." 

Hermione had gone numb at once. They knew. 

"How many?" 

"Two." 

"Send them up." 

She raced to the bathroom and bolted the door, phone in a white-knuckled grip as she dialed Hiram. 

"The police are here," Hermione hissed. 

"I know," his voice was calm, resigned, and it sent her already-racing pulse into hyper-drive. 

"Where are you?" She asked. 

"At the Ritz in Shanghai. Interpol will be here for me soon. Listen, take Veronica and leave after the police have questioned you." 

"Leave? Are you insane? Do you think they'll let me or you go?" She growled, pressing one ear to the door. She could hear the cops enter the apartment, their voices raised as they called for her. 

"I've planned for this." 

"Wha-" Hermione furrowed her brows, but before she could finish her sentence, a loud knock on the bathroom door interrupted her.

She quickly hung up.

"Mrs Lodge? NYPD. Please exit the bathroom." 

"One moment!" She called back amicably. Hermione popped the back of her phone open, plucked out the memory cards, and flushed them down the toilet.

Twelve hours later, she left the police station with Veronica, dazed. 

They had exonerated her of all involvement with the Lodge Industries' insider trading scheme, but Hiram's list of crimes was growing longer by the minute - bribery, fraud, forgery, cybercrime....they would need to divest all assets as soon as possible, and if it couldn't cover the company losses, they would be in a great deal of debt. 

Her head spun, and the last thing she heard was Veronica's shriek. 

When she came to, Veronica was holding her hand by her bedside, eyes red-rimmed and teary. 

"Mommy! You lost consciousness. I was so worried. I told them to bring you back here because I knew you'd hate waking up in the hospital. Not to mention those awful sheets they'd make you wear. Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine, mija," she sighed, and pushed herself into a seating position. 

Veronica dutifully passed her a glass of water, which Hermione downed in one go. Then she looked at her daughter expectantly. Veronica had her lips pressed together, a furrow between her brows. 

"What is it, Veronica?" 

"Mom, the creditors arrived while you were out. They took most of our things. What should we do? We have nothing left." 

"It's never nothing, Veronica," Hermione smiled wanly. "We still have each other. Come, let's pick up the pieces." 

It turned out that the only thing Hiram hadn't transferred over to his name (and as such couldn't be seized by the authorities) was the pied-à-terre they bought in Pembrooke - a place she hadn't stepped in since Veronica was born. 

Hermione felt a wave of irritation at the fact - couldn't Hiram have at least left her the villa in the Caymans? Or the manor in Sicily? Did he honestly expect them to settle back in _Riverdale_? But the irritation left as soon as it arrived. She knew how much Hiram had given up for her - for them, and it was best that they lay low. 

Besides, a small town meant anonymity, and she hoped it also meant that they could settle in without any gossip or fuss. 

\--

It didn't take long for Hermione to realize that laying low was a lot harder than it seemed. She made it her priority to support Veronica - and that meant getting a job. Pop had been the only one willing to take her in without questions, for which she was grateful, but waiting tables was also something she hadn't done since her pre-college years, not since Hiram had whisked her away to New York - and she found it a hard pill to swallow. 

Still, she was raised by immigrant parents who had taught her the importance of hard work, and she supposed that being seen waitressing would cast her in a favourable light, hopefully lessening the toxic atmosphere she knew Veronica would have to deal with in school. Ugh, teenagers. They could be so cruel. 

It was just her luck that she ran into Alice Cooper at the pre-jubilee function. 

"Hermione Lodge. Park Avenue princess to cater waiter." 

Ah, she had nearly forgotten that being cruel wasn't just the prerogative of teens. 

She bore the insults like a champ, but when Alice mentioned Veronica and the vicious rumours that were being thrown around about her, she set her foot down. 

It turned out that her little princess could mete out some vigilante justice of her own, for which she was secretly proud, but she gently reminded Veronica that it wasn't her place to get involved in treachery or deceit. At least, not yet. 

As the weeks went by, Hermione found herself slowly reveling in the freedom of small town life. New York had its glamour, but Riverdale had its charms. The peacefulness of nature. The simplicity of daily life. And she even enjoyed the odd sort of detachment the town provided, away from the rest of the world. There were no society functions to attend, no soirees to plan, and no investors to court. 

Quashing the guilt in her heart, she allowed herself to be drawn into the orbit of Fred Andrews again. He had retained the roguish, appealing manner he exhibited throughout high school, and as she considered the pair of them, she thought about how they would make a perfect plot for a romance novel. Girl on the cusp of womanhood chose the wrong man, and when she chanced upon her freshly-divorced high school sweetheart years later, the fire between them was rekindled....

For several weeks, she found herself living a Mills & Boon romance, but as quickly as the fairytale started, it ended with the sobering reminder that she could never leave Hiram behind. Even as she tried to push away all thoughts about him, the questionable sums of money deposited into her offshore accounts and the cash delivered in monogrammed bags were more than enough reminder of his presence. No, she couldn't leave Hiram. And more importantly, she couldn't leave the thrill that power and ambition gave her. It was something Fred Andrews could never understand. 

She slipped back into underhanded dealings, using a burner phone to send covert messages to Andre to inquire as to how far the underworld empire that Hiram had built had been torn apart. 

Not at all, Andre had replied. Interpol had no idea that Hiram had been operating a transnational protection and drug racket. The Lodge Industries scandal had been little more than a red herring to make sure it went undiscovered. The racket was still running strong, but frequent incursions had been occurring of late without his physical presence. Andre had asked if she wanted to take up the mantle, to step in to make sure operations remained smooth and profits remained high, and it had only taken Hermione a night of tossing and turning before she agreed. 

"The big boss always knew you would want to run it with him some day," Andre had said, before introducing her to Hiram's lieutenant, Philippe, who briefed her on the ins and outs of the operation. 

"Ma'am, the big boss left the information on this device. Said only you knew the password. If you have any questions, I'll be here." Philippe had handed her a sleek, black phone. The initials "H.L" had been engraved in gold at the back of the device. 

When she pressed the home button, she was prompted for a password. She only paused for a moment before keying it in. Immediately, the phone granted her access, with folders full of blackmail information, security details, a list of which officials were on the organization's pay roll - the keys to the empire, as it were. 

Hermione smiled. She had power and ambition at her fingertips. And she would see that it remained. 

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter, they finally say the words.


End file.
